Telling Tales
by Lord Trent Blackmore
Summary: A young man finds himself thrust into a situation he'd rather never be in, into a position that he'd never want to be in. Though he'd rather just go home, or curl up in a room and hide away, that option isn't available to him. All he can do is keep going forward. (Self-Insert)
1. Chapter 1

**Fumble Order Redux 1**

"And you're sure this will work?"

I looked over my shoulder at the young lady standing behind me, and couldn't help but quail internally at the sight of her biting her lip. "It should work, although this is the first time that we've had to work under such… circumstances, Master."

I looked about and caught sight of the burning city out of one of the windows. With a sigh I replied, "Fair."

I focused on the ritual as I looked down at the shield on the cracked and dirty floor, sitting in the middle of a rather intricate circle drawn on said floor. I tried to pull at the energy I'd felt when I'd been Leyshifted into the Singularity. There was something missing… I breathed deeply, and the image formed in my mind…

The thumb is braced against the spark wheel, and then the wheel is ripped, spark met gas… the flame _ignited_.

It felt like there was thirteen canals of fire burning through me, but it was enough. Blue light rippled out from the shield and across the circle, bluebell sprites lifting from the surface and swirling through the air. The light built to a blinding pitch and I had to avert my eyes, even though the three Command Seals on my hand _burnt_.

There was a cracking sound, and the light died away, I lowered my arm as the summoned Servant spoke.

"Did you call for me?" Though the lower half of her face was veiled, I could see fear in her eyes as she spoke in silken tones. She was clad in a skirt of made of sheer white fabric, lapis blue pauldrons and bustier, all of it leaving very little to the imagination.

Looking at her and taking her all in, I couldn't help but feel ambivalent.

She was stunning in so many different ways. Her features lovely from her almost glowing green eyes to her pillowy lips, and even her movements were elegant and bewitching. But, I also knew that this Caster, Scheherazade, would do everything she could to get out of fighting. All of that on top of her being a powerful Caster who would have an edge against many of the foes we might face in the future, despite her desire to avoid combat.

Her eyes darted to the Command Seals on the back of my hand, and she continued to speak, "I am the Caster class Servant, Scheherazade. Should you abide by my simple request, then I will follow you as if you were my king forevermore."

"I don't know what your request is, but if it's within reason and my power, then I'll do my best to fulfill it," I replied, my heart beating in my throat at the thought. What could it be? Not ordering her death? Removing her from the combat team?

She gave a slight curtsy, "Then, let our partnership formally begin."

"Excuse me, Caster. I'm also one of Master's Servants, Mash Kyrielight," Mash introduced herself with a smile, causing Scheherazade to look at her curiously. "I'm of the Shielder class. I look forward to working with you."

The Caster blinked at the young lady but gave her an uneasy smile as she replied, "Of course, and might I ask as to what the situation is for us?"

"Everything's on fire, and the tyrant version of King Arthur has parked herself atop Mount Enzo with a rather terrifying Archer backing her up," I explained, not looking forward to her reaction.

The dusky woman blinked at me, took a few moments to process that and then murmured, "Oh."

Seeing that she had no real input for that, I nodded. "Yeah, we'd hoped that you'd have a way to help us out with that. But, I think we can work something out. How many of the things you summon count as Nature Spirits?" I asked, clasping my hands and looking her in the eye.

"As many as those that would count in their original tales?" Scheherazade answered questioningly, her features taut with confusion.

The smile that grew on my face was probably a bit more predatory than I intended as I chuckled, "Excellent."

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We ended moving back to the small room that we decided to use as a temporary base, Cu leaning against a wall and Olga resting on a chair we'd salvaged. Olga jolted upright as we entered while Cu simply cracked an eye open to regard us.

I nodded to both of them and waved at Scheherazade. "This is Scheherazade, she's a Caster as well." My gaze swiveled to the druid, "Has there been any movement outside?"

As he shook his head, the Director piped up, "Well? You said that we'd need at least another Servant before you could come up with a plan to take the Grail and correct the Singularity. What can we do with these Servants?"

"I hate to be a downer, but the Director's right. We've got too few Servants to compete with the enemy Servants in terms of numbers," Doctor Roman advised, his voice crackling slightly over the connection. "That's not even factoring in the wandering dead."

"About that…" I trailed off before looking to the freshly summoned Caster. "Scheherazade, if your summoned creatures were to devour the spirit cores in the wandering dead or the Blackened Servants, what would happen?"

"It would extend the amount of time they would be able to remain active, but that's about it," The storyteller answered, her lips pursed.

While I'd hoped that the mana would pass back to her if there was any remainder, I was sure we could work with that. Pausing to think on it for a moment, I looked around at the others.

Olga was looking contemplative, but she was worrying her thumbnail with her teeth. Clearly trying to puzzle out a way to resolve the Singularity.

Cu was leaning against a wall near a window, idly looking out it. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but I assumed that he was working on his own plan.

Mash was standing near the door, shield in hand and waiting for us to be ready to move.

And Scheherazade was almost unreadable. Her expression looked placid but I could see the slightest hint of tension in her posture, whether she was worried about me deciding to kill her off or the situation was up in the air.

"Then, I believe the best course of action would be to have Scheherazade release as many of her characters as she can reliably maintain and have them hunt the wandering dead." Everybody's eyes turned to me at that moment, and I grimaced at the attention. "The best plan would be to gather spirit cores to feed to Scheherazade and Cu so they can better handle the Blackened Servants."

I took a deep breath and looked between them as I asked, "Do you two think you'd be willing to consume the spirit cores of the Blackened Servants if we get any?"

"If that is your order, Master," The storyteller answered, bowing her head subserviently.

Cu thought on it for a moment, but eventually shrugged, not saying anything. Maybe he just didn't want to risk any side effects.

The director sighed after a few moments, "If that is the only viable course of action beyond simply assaulting the mountain, then I'll have to give this operation my backing. Romani?"

There was a blitz of static, causing the lot of us to wince before the doctor's voice came through, "-es, Director? Sorry, the connection fritzed out for a moment."

"Have you managed to sort out the operations room? We're in need of the servant detecting equipment," The director asked, her brow furrowed in thought.

The doctor hummed, his answer hesitant, "Well, it'll take some time to get it all properly functioning and calibrated. The explosion did a number on both the staff and the equipment, so it's basically just me right now."

Olga brought her thumb to her mouth and began worrying at the nail, after a moment she grunted, "Fine then, do what you can to get things up and running, I'll expect a report when you get everything functioning again."

The doctor laughed tiredly.

"Of course, director."

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As it turned out, Scheherazade's Forty Thieves were quite useful for searching out the remaining Servants as well as for droves of undead.

While the small men weren't strong enough to take on any of them on their own, together they could at least handle the undead by swarming them. And that was just the tip of the iceberg when it came Caster's Noble Phantasm, given the bodyguard she'd summoned to act as a support to Mash.

The summon was a dark skinned woman with silver white hair, wearing brief white clothes and some jewelry, all while carrying an oddly curved sword. Scheherazade had introduced this new person as Jalis, but she seemed to only act when commanded or during combat which was an entirely different story.

To say that Jalis danced through combat was an understatement.

Where Mash was a bulwark, an anvil that foes crashed into and broke against, Jalis was a razor wind. She weaved into clusters of the undead and struck with poise and elegance that bordered on inhuman, each attack carried out with a deadliness akin to a cobra.

Watching all of them fight the undead was… humbling, in a way.

I'd been in fights before, but never had they been like these frantic clashes, where a single slip up could mean the loss of life or limb.

Dodging back from a swipe sent my way by a stealthy skeleton, a pink and red flash spun past my face. The skeleton fell back and collapsed, its skull crushed under the heel of the young lady who had attacked it.

Her skin was as dusky as Jalis's, but her hair was bubblegum pink, matching her puffy pantaloon-esque shorts. She eyed me for a moment before jumping after another undead, leading with her heel in another spinning kick.

Blinking after her for a few moments, I looked to Scheherazade and asked, "Who, uh, who was that?"

"Morgiana, the wise slave girl of Ali Baba. She didn't kick like that before…" Caster trailed off, watching her summon flip into a crowd of shambling corpses.

Before I could say anything, Cu Chulainn barked, "Well, who cares if she does? She's got some real fire in her!" As he declared that, runes erupted from his staff, turning into gouts of flame as they slammed into the living dead.

As a zombie charged me, I slid out of its path and stuck out a leg, sending it to the ground. I swallowed a lump in my throat even as I lifted up a foot and stomped down on its head, trying to ignore the fact that it used to be human. Coughing around the bile rising in my gullet as the thing's skull let out a sick crack, I cast my gaze around at the group.

They were all handling themselves better than I was.

Grunting, I shifted my focus from wallowing in my limited usefulness and instead grabbed a crowbar that was laying on the ground. Hefting it and testing its weight, I readied myself before returning to the fray.

I could at least do that much.

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Trying to center myself, I took a few deep breaths and tried to forget the crowbar that I'd acquired as we made the best of the situation we were stuck in. It was resting against the seat I'd all but collapsed into, with new fresh stains from the corpses I'd bludgeoned.

After clearing out a few groups of the wandering dead outside, we'd moved into a small department store and liberated it of any undead. The pair of proper magi had set up some bounded fields as defences, but they'd not been able to guarantee that they'd do anything against Saber Alter and her Blackened Servants.

Honestly, I'd have been astounded if they could have guaranteed such a thing.

We'd occupied the tables of a cafe, Olga, Cu Chulainn and I sipping at pilfered drinks while we discussed what had been achieved so far. Scheherazade had declined anything while Mash was considering her own drink nervously.

"So, we took out the Blackened Lancer just after we arrived, and you said that you already took care of the Rider?" I clarified as I studied the Caster.

The druid nodded and crushed his apparently emptied can, "Mhm, he was some native fellow with a bunch of weapons and a pair of horns on his head. Couldn't tell you his name though."

"I'm fairly sure that would be Benkei, or someone who was famous for impersonating him, based on the description," Or at least, that was who I remember being the identity of the Rider in the OVA, there was no guarantee that I was right in this case though. I wasn't going to admit that, not at the moment at least.

The blue haired man shrugged, "Couldn't tell you, he wasn't much for conversation by the time I got to him."

"I'd imagine as much," Olga interjected, leaning back in her chair as she looked between Cu and I. She was clearly on edge, and our current pace probably wasn't doing much to help either.

I snorted at the image of Cu sitting down to chat with any of the Blackened Servants, and asked, "Then the ones left would be Saber, Archer, Assassin, and Berserker?"

"Yup, and good luck trying to get any of them on our side," The Hound of Chulainn laughed, clearly relishing the idea of fighting them.

I sighed, considering the idea but discarding it, "Ideally, we'll only have to fight Archer and Saber, as Berserker's just off rampaging on his own. Assassin's the only one unaccounted for, but hopefully they'll content themselves with just skulking around."

"Well…" My stomach sank as Cu Chulainn drew out that word, his grin twisting savagely. "He's working his way through the bounded fields now, so I guess it's just Berserker we'll be avoiding."

I'd have sighed, had I anywhere near the level of composure to manage it. Looking to Scheherazade, I ordered, "Release the Forty Thieves and have them split up throughout the store! Cu, is there anything you can do to handle Assassin?"

The student of Scathach smiled even as my summoned Caster demurely went about fulfilling my order, "I got a few things that I can set up in a few minutes."

"Then get to it!" I nearly yelled, feeling more than a little sick. I looked to Olga, who had given the same command in time with me, and was clearly trying to keep her own cool.

Cu laughed, "Ha, keep that spunk in you and we'll make proper Masters of you two yet!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Fumble Order Redux 2**

I across from Olga at a cafe table, my fingers drumming against the table as I quietly tried to keep from retching.

Assassin was encroaching on our location.

A killer who took up the title of Old Man of the Mountain, and devised a killing technique to prove themselves _worthy_ of succeeding the order of the Hashashin.

The taste of bile lingered at the back of my throat as I tried present a calm facade, even with Mash, Jalis, and Scheherazade hovering near me protectively.

I couldn't do anything about the situation.

I was just a normal person who had somehow fallen into Chaldea's operational floor just after Lev's bombs had gone off. I was lucky enough that Ritsuka had chosen to save me from being crushed under rubble at the cost of her own health.

My thumb pulled over my index finger, pulling hard and causing the knuckle to crack. Even as it traveled down the line of my digits, I couldn't quell the sickness in my stomach.

"Cut that out, it won't help."

My gaze snapped up to Olga, the Director of Chaldea sitting across from me with her arms crossed and her eyes cracked open. I took a deep breath before retorting, "Not like anything else I do will help either."

"Complaining certainly won't help," She shot back, an eyebrow quirked as she leaned back in her seat. She wasn't wrong, but at the same time…

I bit back a curse as I replied, "Sure, you're right, but what am I good for? I'm just a battery for Mash and Scheherazade and a target for Assassin."

"At least you can summon a Servant, whereas I'm just stuck throwing Gandr curses at the small fry that attack us," The director huffed, waving a hand through the air as if that was some small contribution. She took out more of the dead with those than I did with the crowbar I'd picked up.

Slamming my balled fist down on the table, I snarled, "Still more than I did! Still more than I can do! I'm just- Just another person! An average person! That redhead would have been a better choice than me!"

"Well you're here, not her! Besides, you probably have about the same chances of succeeding as she did…" Even as she huffed the last part, I'd surged to my feet.

I was about to shout at her when a soft voice interrupted, "Master, please, this is nary the time nor the place for such a discussion."

My gaze swerved to Scheherazade, the Caster standing deferentially behind me, her eyes averted. I stayed standing, tempted to just walk _away_ from this situation but folded back into my seat. I scrubbed a hand through my hair, but my agitation was forced aside by Olga.

"How did you know the identities of the Servants?"

The director was staring at me, ruby eyes boring holes in my forehead, her grimace a sign of her own annoyance. Her arms were crossed and she was leaning against the back of her chair as she regarded me like something offensive.

She was certainly justified in asking, but _actually_ answering her question…

I had no way of knowing if Goetia was listening in, and spilling the beans could be disastrous if he was. Then again, I couldn't just leave her in the dark, especially considering the situation at hand…

A heavy sigh escaped me as I measured my words, after a moment of thought, I answered her, "This singularity is a warped mirror of the the fifth Fuyuki Grail War. While most of the Servants are the same, there are some discrepancies as well as some of them being different classes."

Clearly unamused, her eyes narrowed as she retorted, "There was only one-"

"Only one Grail War in _this_ world," I agreed, hoping that she'd caught my emphasis without me needing to explain further. Her eyes widened, but she held back from asking anything aloud despite her returned grimace.

Rather than press on the matter, Olga inquired, "Then, tell me about this Assassin."

"The Assassin summoned in that war, the true one, was one of the Hassan-i-Sabbah. In this case, it's the Hassan of the Cursed Arm," I explained, drifting back into my memories of the Servant in question. I saw Olga's eyebrow quirk upward when I mentioned Cursed Arm being the true Assassin, but as I she didn't comment, I continued. "He has two main threats, his use of throwing dirks and his Noble Phantasm."

Bringing my hand up to rub at my chest above my heart, I grit my teeth.

"He wields the Zabaniya: Delusional Heartbeat. With it, he creates a clump of ether that mirrors the target's heart, such that when he crushes the fake, it destroys the real one. The upside is that he needs to touch the target's chest in order to inflict it upon them."

Mash shifted her position to stand between our table and what she seemed to think was the closest point for Cursed Arm to attack us from. Not paying attention to the Shielder, Olga nodded, her Director persona taking over as asked, "And those are the only ways he can threaten us?"

"Directly at least, otherwise, the danger comes from his nature as an Assassin as that is what allows him to approach without our noticing," Answering her, I cast my gaze about, trying to find the Assassin. I did technically have another angle of trying to stall him, but it wasn't likely to stop him if he had been Blackened.

Would he care for Rushd while Blackened?

I leaned forward and sighed into my hands, what a nightmare I had been dragged into. Olga cleared her throat, and continued, "What about the others then? Archer, Saber, and Berserker?"

"Berserker's the worst match up for us at any point while we're here in the Singularity, given that he's the Mad Son of Zeus. If he has his Godhand still, then we have absolutely no chance with our current forces. I dunno about you, but Herakles isn't on my list of people to fuck with today," I grumbled as I fought back a shudder, the mere _idea_ of fighting Herakles was enough to give me conniptions.

The director's eyes narrowed, and she inquired, "What's the Godhand then? Some sort of Noble Phantasm?"

"Mhm, based off his Twelve Labors. Basically, he has twelve lives that we would need to burn through and can't be killed by anything except an attack of A rank or higher. On top of that, after being killed by such an attack, he gains a resistance to it." My explanation probably wasn't the best, but at least I wasn't word salading all over the place like I thought I would.

At my side, Scheherazade shuddered, whether it was from the idea of us trying to fight Herk, I wasn't sure. Still, she kept quiet, even as she continued to listen in.

Rather than continue on with Berserker, I switched tacks. "Archer's a problem due to the fact that he's got a nigh limitless stock of Noble Phantasms that he can break and launch at us. No real weaknesses or anything like that, our best bet would be to find a way to sneak around him and take him out… except for the fact that he set up shop on top of Mount Enzo."

"Which means that while you and I could climb up the sides to assault him, the Servants wouldn't be able to follow us," She murmured as she fell into her own considerations on how to deal with Emiya. I didn't quite know whether or not Olga would be able to travel up the side of the mountain given her current state, but my thoughts were cut off by her. "Then, what about Saber? Seeing as she's the lynchpin of this mess as well as the one who defeated all the others, I assume that there's something special about her?"

Before I could answer, Caster interrupted, "Master mentioned something about a tyrant version of King Arthur earlier, I assume that's the Saber in question?"

"Yeah, that'd be the one. I don't know if she was summoned naturally in her Altered state, or if she was somehow forced into it upon claiming the Grail. However, what we can know for sure is that she's completely unrestrained in every manner, being perfectly willing to thrash us with the full extent of her power," I almost laughed as I went over Saber Alter's specs in my mind. The prospect was just so grim, who would call being forced to fight King Arthur going ham with only a shitty Master, a ghost, two proper Servants, and one Demiservant who can't use her Noble Phantasm the least bit fair?

Leaning back in my seat in an attempt to try and calm down, I murmured, "Honestly, our best bet would be to try and force Berserker and Saber into conflict, but with Berserker stuck in a rampage without a tempering element like Illya…sviel…"

My eyes turned to the Director, her silky white hair and her pale complexion, she eyed me curiously in return, somewhat apprehensive. I got ready to ask her a question but stopped short, it wasn't exactly the most… sane of requests.

I'll be the first to admit, it was a frankly crazy idea, an undertaking of utter madness.

On the other hand, it would help take care of Berserker while distracting Saber…

"Well, if we could force Berserker and Saber to fight one another, then we could have the former delay the other while we prepare to deal with Saber," I remarked, trying to act casual before springing the plan on her.

Across from me, Olga sighed harshly, "What are you thinking?"

"Well… We'd need Cas-er, Cu here to clarify if I'm correct, but given that Berserker's patrolling the forest territory owned by the Einzberns and my own knowledge of this War, we can labour under the assumption that Berserker's master was Illyasviel von Einzbern. His behaviour is… aberrant for an unshackled Berserker, and given my own knowledge of the two, well, Berserker is very fond of his lost Master." Olga nodded along with my explanation, clearly understanding the underlying meaning behind the words. Both Scheherazade and Mash were intrigued by groundwork I was laying down, at least it seemed that way from the way that they were paying more attention to the conversation. "Thus, if were to have at least a close approximation of his Master, we could probably lure him toward Saber's location."

"Well, it seems we've something akin to a plan, but how are we going to create something that will fool Berserker? It's inadvisable for any of us to try and get close enough to him to try and capture him in an illusion, nor do we have a master of disguise," The Director replied, citing points that I was all too willing to concede.

"Well, we have Scheherazade here, and she can summon the magic carpet from the tale of Aladdin, which would solve our speed and transportation problem. As for fooling Berserker…" I trailed off, having to steel myself as I prepared to drop the key part of the plan to her.

"…Well, it's a good thing we're in a mall, because we have to get you some purple winter clothes."

Olga froze, her eyes shooting wide as she processed my reply, then she ever so slowly put her head in her hands. After a moment, she groaned, "This is a terrible idea."

"I know, but it's all we really have."

My less than supportive answer caused the Director to groan again, but she did pull her face out of her hands, her face set in resignation. She declared emotionlessly, "If this plan doesn't work, I'm docking your pay."

"Director, I _literally_ dropped into the operations room from Canada, you currently aren't paying me anything," I pointed out quietly, flinching somewhat under her dead stare.

She sniffed, "Then your pay will start at the lowest Chaldea has, and it'll start docked as well."

Left unsaid was the fact that if the plan failed, we would both likely be dead.

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Touring the third boutique in the mall that we'd come to, I held the coat that was the right size and make to fit with the image of Illya, studying it idly when a thought occurred to me. We had no real idea as to how the Servants here were Blackened, beyond that Saber Alter had been the cause. The thought niggled in the back of my mind as Olga studied a number of bucket shaped caps, all of them in shades of purple.

How had all of this happened?

Even if Goetia introduced an extra Grail to this setting, it wouldn't automatically cause all this chaos. We knew what the gun was, and who pulled the trigger, we just didn't know what the trigger _was_.

"Blackmore, why are you frowning like that? If you've remembered something about Berserker that would render this plan moot…" The Director's inquiry cut through my thoughts, bringing me back to the issue at hand.

I shook my head, and replied, "No, nothing like that. I was just thinking about the source of the Blackening, and how it doesn't make sense while we're missing one key piece of information." With a dramatic flourish, I raised a finger to illustrate my point and feed my inner drama queen.

"What caused Saber to become her Altered version?"

Olga blinked at me, her confusion evident, but it was Mash who spoke, asking, "Does that really matter, Master?"

"Well, look at it like this, Mash: if, in a book, the protagonist and some key figure talked about something that was necessary to solve the conflict, but never showed the acquisition or development of this something, but still pulled it out in the final battle, then the story falls apart." Basic narrative framing helped me get things down, hopefully it'll help here. The confusion lightened, though it was still present, so I continued, "Now, in our situation, the issue is that without knowing just what caused Artoria to be Altered in the first place, we've no way to deal with it should it become an issue."

As realization dawned on the Demi-Servant's face, the Director inquired, "Given your apparent familiarity with this War, I assume you've a theory?"

"Two that hold water, one that's a hard maybe, and then a few percolating that are probably just rubbish," Though I said that, there's the chance that Goetia simply forced Artoria into an Altered state through Lev, something that Olga would definitely not be inclined to hear.

"And?"

At the Director's inquiry, I laid out the basics, "Well, in the case of this Grail War, it's the fifth Fuyuki Grail War, with the three main families competing being the Matous -formerly the Makiris-, the Tohsakas, and the Einzberns. The real crux behind my idea comes from a certain turning point in the third instance of this variety of war, where the Einzberns summoned an Extra class Servant."

"We're to assume that Extra Servants are rare, Master?" Scheherazade questioned quietly, her low tones ringing lowly in my ears.

"That is… well, somewhat. The actual issue is the Servant they summoned, a nameless Heroic Spirit in the Avenger class, whose sole claim to fame was having the blame for all the evils of the world forced upon him," A frown settled on my features as I explained the circumstances behind the first Avenger and the other likely cause of the Blackening. "However, he was utterly weak, a Servant who was crushed almost instantaneously and his essence emptied into the Greater Grail.

"That's the real issue though, his grudge against humanity and the world, against everything, was so great and terrible that when he joined with the Greater Grail, he corrupted it. No longer was the Greater Grail a pure wish granting device, but a Monkey's Paw incubating All the Evils of the World." With a flourish, I swept an arm out and smiled cynically, unable to keep the the disgusted tone from my voice as I declared, "Come now, and make a wish, let Angra Mainyu grant it! You want to be the most beautiful person in the world? Let's maim everyone!"

I took a moment to study the others, see just how they were taking the revelation of the Fuyuki Grail's circumstances, and wasn't disappointed. Olga looked to be trying to keep the relief from her own expression, but it was obvious that she was glad that the Grail her father had won hadn't been compromised. Mash was pensive, seemingly trying to put together just how everything got to this point. Jalis was silent and studying the surroundings, seemingly not listening at all.

And Scheherazade was contemplative, her gaze far away, presumably considering her own desire to be free of the Throne of Heroes, and being summoned to fight to the death.

"The thing is, the Greater Grail can't really do more than manifest without someone making a wish upon it, though that manifestation is just as bad." Continuing on with the absolutely lovely tale of the Fuyuki Grail, I stepped down the aisle and idly checked out the clothes there. Pulling at the sleeve of a plum shirt that looked to be the right cut and shade, I declared, "It unleashes a mud, laden with curses and hate, enough that it can twist the Saint Graph of Heroic Spirits that come into contact with it if they aren't able to resist its twisted power."

With a step to the end of the aisle, I knocked lightly on a bland cap that didn't match what we were looking for at all. Poking at another, I felt my face twist as I murmured, "In a variation of this Grail War, the curses managed to capture and consume a number of the Servants, with there being similarities here in the form of Saber Alter. The issue is that we've seen no evidence of the trigger in that War."

"So, the issue is that we've no way of knowing if the Singularity could relapse or reform after we take care of it without taking care of this trigger of yours," Olga surmised as she browsed the racks for anything that fit the description I'd given of Illya's outfit.

It was honestly more likely that Lev had simply interfered on his own and Altered Saber, but without him coming forward to reveal that fact, my word would be discarded in his favour. I went to answer when my words caught in my throat.

I was going to die.

The air in my throat crackled into a croak, my eyes widened painfully as I tried to move.

From the corner of my eye, the corrupted Cursed Arm Hassan manifested physically, a dirk stabbing through the air at my neck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Fumble Order Redux 3**

As the knife cut towards Trent's neck, all he could think was how he had to get out of the way and how his legs weren't responding properly. Though he wanted to jump out the dirk's path, all he managed to do was collapse away from Assassin, his ankles failing to respond when his knees did.

The man tumbled away from the knife, panic clearly on on his face as the Hassan corrected his aim.

As that small drama played out, the others were reacting in their own ways. Olga dropped the clothes she'd been holding, the fingers on her right hand folding quickly into a gun-like shape as she brought it up to point at the assailant. Mash had pushed past the others and was charging down the aisle, shield at her side and chambered to be swept between her Master and his attacker. Scheherazade had reached into her cleavage, a scroll held almost delicately between her fingers as she directed Jalis forward, the sword wielding woman having darted atop one of the shelves to use as an avenue of approach.

Still, none of them would make it in time.

The Hassan was too close to Blackmore, the attack moving too quickly for any of them to intervene.

Trent's salvation came in the form of a small body falling from the ceiling, its cartoonish figure slapping down on the assailant's forearm. It looked like a Muppet, clad in a fez and a tube like garment, in its hand was a small scimitar. The Assassin froze in his stab, his skull masked visage locked onto the toy-like figure on his arm. The Muppet looked back at him, eyes seemingly rolling about in their sockets as it declared, "Aaaah, meep meep!"

Then, it stabbed his hand.

With a loud cracking sound, Cursed Arm Hassan's hand jerked forward and bent in an awkward and ugly way, his knife stabbing into the tiny thing. It let out a sad wheeze, deflating around the dirk like a punctured balloon before bursting into a plume of dust.

However, even as the construct fell apart, the Assassin was forced to dodge away from his target as Jalis dove between the two, her sword flashing through where he'd been. With his cloak fluttering about his form, the Assassin kicked off the nearest shelf, launching himself up into the air and towards the entrance to the boutique.

He was forced to arrest his flight, his hand shooting out and clamping onto the ceiling as the scroll Scheherazade had grabbed unfurled in front of him. A great masculine figure burst from the scroll, swinging a blue fist at the Hassan. The muscles on Assassin's arm bulged grotesquely under his skin as he pulled himself back out of the path of the blow. As the punch thundered past him, the djinn's mouth fell open and unleashed a gout of flame where its target was anchored.

The Assassin let out a keening sound, his fingers releasing the ceiling and causing him to fall from it, flames clinging to the cloak wrapped around his frame and the djinn dispersed. A Gandr shot by the Director flew through the burning cloth as it billowed about him, the curse flying wide as the Hassan bound over a clothing rack.

Even with that production, the Assassin used his new position to kick a pair of mannequins at the humans in the group, trying to harry them into the perfect range for his Noble Phantasm. The mannequin that had been thrown at Trent broke against Mash's shield as she stepped in to guard him while Olga ducked under hers, the feminine figure shattering against the far wall. He followed this up by throwing a handful of dirks, a trio aimed at Jalis and a pair flying towards Scheherazade.

The story given form was more than able to knock the dirks out of the air, the blades flying rather slowly in comparison to her own swift strikes. Caster on the other hand, was only able to dodge one of the knives, with the other slamming into her chest, just below her collarbone and sending her reeling.

The Storyteller let out a breathy gasp, her hand coming up to grab the knife in her shoulder her expression crumpled in pain as she staggered somewhat. The Hassan burst forward at the sight of her vulnerability, his cloak torn from his emaciated frame as the Arm of Shaytan broke free of its cloth restraints. As the groping hand surged through the air toward Scheherazade's breast, its palm was suddenly filled before it reached its destination. The soft, pliable flesh squirmed a bit in the powerful grip, and the Muppet turned its head to face the Assassin holding it. With a charming little grin on its face, it cheerily declared, "Hi-ho friend!"

And then it stabbed him right between the thumb and index finger.

The grip turned vice-like and crushed the member of the Forty Thieves, the muppet making a dismayed sound as it burst into motes of dust. He threw another cascade of knives at Jalis as he lunged, his Zabaniya chambered as he tried once more to close the distance between himself and Scheherazade.

The Assassin's body contorted itself as his foot lifted off the ground, muscles stretching and shifting as he modified his body mid-movement, a cicada-like hiss echoing from his mouth. Hassan's body curled forward, low to the ground, his foot braced and ready to push into a sprint at his target.

There was no time for Scheherazade to respond, caught between nursing her wound and trying to dodge away from the Assassin's initial attack. Jalis was busy intercepting thrown knives while Olga had dodged out of range during the initial knife throw, and Mash was guarding Blackmore from any assault.

A pulse ran through the muscles on Cursed Arm's braced leg, his foot ground against the floor as he launched into the final spurt, intent on ending the Caster's life. His body briefly lifted into the air from the force of his kick off, but was forced back into the ground as a large mass slammed onto his back from above.

With a chorus of cheery greetings and declarations, the members of the Forty Thieves swarmed over the Assassin's body, stabbing and cutting his emaciated body. Hassan writhed beneath them, swatting and throwing them off him, but there were too many to conceivably remove them all before more returned to attack. With the assailant distracted by the swarm of Muppets, Jalis joined the fray, her sword flashing through the air as she aimed for a decapitating strike.

While Assassin was certainly preoccupied with removing the Forty Thieves from his body, he wasn't so blinded by his situation to not notice the scantily clad sword wielder diving at him. With a pair of arm sweeps, he collected a few fistfuls of Thieves and tossed them at Jalis while he threw himself back with a trilling screech.

Muppet bodies careened through the air and were batted aside while the white haired swordswoman chased after her foe as he careened through the air. Just as his body crossed the threshold to the mall's corridors, where he intended to escape from his current engagement and recuperate before trying again, a voice echoed from down the way.

"I never thought I'd see the day that a deadly Assassin would be forced to retreat by a battalion of puppets. Then again, I guess anything can happen when Servants are involved."

A wave of glowing runes blasted through the air and encircled the Hassan of the Cursed Arm, flaring in the gloom of the deserted mall before unleashing a great gout of fire. Hassan's shadow twisted within the flames as the muppets clinging to him were reduced to cinders, a chittering wail echoed through the building as the fire intensified, turning white from the sheer heat.

Cu Chulainn strode towards the conflagration, his robes billowing about him as his staff clicked against the tiled floor with each step. Firing off another round of runes, increasing the power behind the flames that he had cast as he remarked, "For some reason, this whole setup seems familiar. Sorry I couldn't give you a better fight this time, hopefully it was better the last time we fought."

The druid flicked his staff, and the fire dispersed, leaving behind only charred tile and ash. He studied the spot for a moment and then turned to look at his momentary allies. Trent was visible from behind the shelves where he fell, Mash standing over him with with her shield raised high. Olga was crouched low and had braced herself against one of the shelves with one arm the other held high in the shape of a gun. Jalis was at attention, looming impassively near the precipice of the store while her master stood, somewhat slumped, one arm gripping at the wound above her breast.

His eye roved across them, his eyebrow quirked up throughout the survey and he only seemed to grow more bemused as the silence dragged on between them. The group who had been caught in a desperate struggle against the Assassin slowly stood and shambled out into the thoroughfare, none of them quite able to look the Hound of Chulainn in the eye. As they trooped out, he remarked, "Ya know, I figured that you guys would probably get through the fight, but I never expected to see a puppet gang."

"I'll be honest, the Muppet Mosh Pit was a surprise for me as well," Trent agreed as he tried to calm himself down after his brush with death, his hands curling and uncurling intermittently. "Who's next, Sweetums? Kermit? Miss Pig- Wait, no Miss Piggy would probably kick ass and take names."

"Master, I don't think that's within Caster's purview…" Mash murmured as she took up a position beside him, her eyes scanning the area warily. "Besides, she's injured," the Demi-Servant noted, her gaze flickering over to Scheherazade's wound as she did so. Rather than speak up, the dusky woman pressed her hand over the wound, trying to quietly staunch the blood.

The Canadian followed her gaze and noticed the stab wound on the storyteller's chest, causing his brow to crease as he asked, "Director, Cu Chulainn, do either of you know any healing magic?"

"Nah, my teacher never taught me anything like that, she just figured that it'd make me spend less time actually fighting," The druid chuckled nervously, as though afraid that speaking of his teacher would cause her to appear.

Olga simply crossed her arms and muttered, "Wouldn't it be easier for you to just channel some extra mana over to her and let her sort it out herself?"

"Because I'm new to this mess and am still surprised that I managed to even summon someone?" The blond admitted awkwardly, trying to get bring back the feeling that had coursed through him when he'd summoned Scheherazade. He imagined the sequence he went through at the time, igniting a lighter and feeling that liquid fire burn through his veins. Trent grimaced at the heat suddenly pouring through his insides, briefly flashing back to an old memory of a camping incident.

He felt sick, the fact that he'd nearly been killed compounding the memory of the pain of burning his hands and making him nauseous. He swallowed stiffly, pushing the memory down as he focused on the present and their current issues. "So, how do I do that?"

"You just… You should just be able to do it," The director replied, not meeting his eyes as she spoke, the fact that she had no actual experience working with a Heroic Spirit outside of da Vinci betraying her at that moment. Blackmore looked to Ireland's Child of Light, and he had the nerve to just shrug at him, an amused smirk making it clear how much he was enjoying the awkward atmosphere.

Trent sighed, and rubbed his forehead, wincing at the heat radiating off his palms. With a deep breath, he looked to Scheherazade and asked, "Would you rather drink blood or saliva?"

The Caster blinked, consideration passing over her features for a few moments before she answered, "Well, if you would be more comfortable with one or the other, I don't particularly mind…"

"I asked what _you_ would rather," Blackmore shot back sternly, causing Scheherazade to flinch at the reprimand. The Canadian sighed internally at that, annoyed at himself for having evoked such a reaction.

The veiled woman was quiet for a few moments, but eventually spoke, "I'd prefer blood Master, if it matters."

"Alright then." As he said that, Trent considered whether the Caster's choice was due to her understanding of him, her own issues with her past, or something else. She was able to discern her Master's nature and intentions due to viewing him as a "king", so Blackmore couldn't help but wonder if her decision to ask for blood was her noticing his desire to move as quickly as they could. Pushing those thoughts aside, he quickly jabbed an arm out and brushed his thumb along the keen edge of Jalis's sword. The blond winced at the pain that came with the parting of his flesh as he ignored the protests from Mash, but after making sure he was bleeding, he shoved the digit at Scheherazade.

"Drink what you need, we can't really afford to dawdle."

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After the small and somewhat awkward recovery from the battle, the group had set off deeper in the department store in search of more clothing to use as a disguise for Olga. While they'd picked up a good number skirts and blouses, the issue was finding the right shade as well as the accessories. Trent had also advised Olga attempt to pitch her voice up and affect a German accent, but it had resulted in a far cry from Illyasviel's girlish tone.

While Olga fussed through the clothing and Scheherazade advised her on ways to make herself appear more childlike, perusing a selection of makeup that might be used to help sell the image. Mash and Jalis were running a small patrol around the area, keeping an eye for any possible threats, Assassin's attack having made the group feel the measure was necessary. Finally, Blackmore and Cu Chulainn were standing somewhat apart from the group as they discussed amongst themselves.

The druid nodded as he bounced a stone up and down in his hand, a number of runes inscribed on it. "See, you just push some mana into it and chuck it at the target, which'll cause it to explode when it hits them."

"Sweet, I'll have to ask if you can teach me how to do some of this Runecraft if we make it through this. It'd certainly be a useful skill going forward," The blond murmured as he eyed the makeshift weapon, thinking about how he'd use them. He gently stashed the few marked stones that he'd been given, and continued, "Beyond that, I need you to prepare a special one for me, one that'll deal with demonic entities."

"Oh, you got some sort of idea of what we might have to deal with?" The Child of Light inquired, a curious look on his face as he considered the idea.

Trent shrugged, unsure of just how much he'd be able to reveal without tipping off Goetia or if he was even watching them. After a moment, he admitted, "Well, the first case is that it's better to be safe than sorry, and the second is the Blackened Archer. If he's fallen into his Alter state or been replaced by it, then he'll have been somewhat affected by a demonic bodhisattva, which is why something like that would be necessary."

"A demonic bodhisattva? The hell'd that guy run into something like that?" Cu wondered aloud, considering the words and the nature of such a being.

Blackmore chuckled bitterly, his shoulders shaking as he considered the tragedy that had led to EMIYA Alter, "A terribly lewd nun, and the cult that formed around her." His lips curled in disgust at the thought, and admitted, "I'd rather just face the Blackened Archer than the Lost Man."


	4. Chapter 4

**Fumble Order Redux 4**

Olga tugged a bit at the sleeves of her costume, her expression pulled into a small scowl from the combined heat of the layers and the burning city. "Are you really sure this outfit will work? It still seems like a horrible idea, and even you said it wasn't a perfect match."

"Director, do you know where to find shirts embroidered with gold? In this situation?" Blackmore replied, his eyes flickering to the magus and then back to Scheherazade, who had just pulled a large carpet from one of her scrolls.

The albino shook her head, her frown turning thoughtful as she murmured, "Who even embroiders in gold?"

"The Einzberns," the blond answered glibly despite the rhetorical nature of the question, trying to quash the nausea welling up in his gullet. "Could be worse though, they could embroider in Rhinegold…"

The Director gave him a bland look, her jaw working as if she was holding back from retorting the statement. She settled for putting a hand over her face and sighing, moving to inspect the carpet they'd be using as transportation. The blond didn't spend much time contemplating that, and instead stared out at the scorched city they were about to traverse. He swallowed deeply, his ears perking up at the sound of heels clicking on tile as Mash approached him.

"Master, I don't know what plans you've made, but I don't have access to my Noble Phantasm…" the girl admitted, her expression downcast as her grip tightened on her shield. "Maybe, if I could use it, then when we were fighting Assassin…"

"Worrying about what ifs and all that… leave that to the Director and I until after we deal with Saber." The blond advised with little preamble, he knew that reassuring people wasn't quite his forte and decided that it wasn't the time to try. "As for your Noble Phantasm… well, such things are supposed to be instinctual for Servants. Given that you're a Shielder, the only advice that I can really offer is that you remember the things you want to protect. It doesn't have to be everything in the world, it just has to be the things you want to protect most in the world."

"The things I want to protect most…" Mash's words trailed off as she considered the implications, her eyes turned down in thought. "But, Chaldea's supposed to protect all of humanity…"

"All of humanity's way too big for one person to carry on their shoulders, or shield behind their back. Even if it's Chaldea's job to protect humanity, you just need to do your part," the Master remarked quietly as he braced himself for the journey to the ruins of the Einzbern Castle. "So, buck up, we're going to need you to cover us in case Berserker doesn't like our Illya costume."

"Master, I still don't think that this is the best course of action," Mash muttered, worry clear on her face at the thought of having to deal with Heracles.

Blackmore shrugged as his face twisted into a wry grimace. "I think that Cu's the only one looking forward to this whole mess, Mash."

With that small dig at the Hound of Chulainn's thirst for battle the two fell into silence, understanding the reluctance the other felt at going out into the burning city, to try and confront the mad demigod.

Trent turned his gaze skyward and suppressed a scream of indignation from how bad a day he'd had thus far. He settled for sighing deeply in despair.

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Blackmore clung to Scheherazade, arms wrapped around her waist as he kept his eyes down and off the scenery speeding by. Mash and Cu at the ready in case of any sort of assault during their trip, while Olga sat in the middle of their squad and held her hat down.

Jalis had been dismissed earlier for the sake of moderating how much mana Scheherazade was using.

There wasn't any real danger of them falling off the carpet, but Trent still held tight to the Caster. The rest of the group were on guard for any attacks, but Cu Chulainn still felt the need to break the relative silence.

"So, you said that all of this was due to a tainted grail and what not. But how much do you actually know about the circumstances behind that?" the druid asked curiously, his gaze remaining vigilantly on their they cut through the city.

Trent turned his head from the Caster's back and shrugged. "Honestly, the circumstances could fall anywhere within a certain subset, but allow me to make a few assumptions." As he said that, he looked to the others and received a round of nods. "Then, the crux of the matter. Lancer's master was the Matou heiress, correct?"

Cu hummed his assent as he nodded, "That'd be correct, had purple hair and that."

"Then, I have a decent idea as to how the Fifth War became like this." The blond shook his head as his shoulders slumped, events unfolding in his head. "I can't tell you the exact process, as there's some anomalous details, but it's a tragedy."

No one spoke, clearly waiting for the Canadian to continue, even as he gathered himself. After a moment, he continued, "Sakura Matou was born Sakura Tohsaka, second daughter of the Tohsaka family. Her father, Tokiomi, desired for both his daughters to be able to inherit magecraft and enjoy it as he did, but he couldn't pass his crest on to Sakura. So, when he found out that a nearby family of reputable mages had no heirs to their name, he offered Sakura up for adoption."

To him, it was a rather callous and strange decision, with the aftereffects of it colouring Blackmore's view of Tokiomi. As he looked at the others, they mostly seemed to be considering the scenario that Trent had lain out, none of them having the context that he did. The blond sighed, "From there, Sakura was adopted into the Matou family, and rather than being taught magecraft properly…" trailing off, he swallowed the words clogging his throat. "Well, the Matou make use of Crest Worms in their magecraft. Imagine a dark, dank basement, full of Crest Worms… Sakura was thrown to the worms time and time again, violated on the orders of Zouken Matou."

It was with that declaration that their faces curled in disgust, the image clearly having gotten through to them. Alas, that wasn't the thing he wanted to sell them on and shook his head, "But, that's not the part of Sakura's experiences that matters to us now. What matters is that, in the aftermath of the Fourth War, Zouken took shards of the Grail that manifested, and implanted them within Sakura, forging a direct connection between her and Angra Mainyu."

"And given what we know of Angra Mainyu, it has the capability to corrupt Servants as it did with Lancer and the others, the only thing it was missing was a way into the world, which it found through Sakura. With all those things combined, we can assume that something pushed Sakura to that point that she either broke and gave Angra Mainyu control, or that someone found a way to inflict it on Saber and make her its conduit." Even as the blond explained that, he felt that it probably wasn't actually the case. To him, it was far more likely that Flauros had blackened Saber and let things go from there.

Silence lapsed over the group as they let the carpet carry them towards the ruins of the Einzbern Mansion, some of them in contemplation while others tried to focus more on their surroundings. The way the ruins and burned out husks of vehicles sped by was almost entrancing for the Canadian, though he had returned to his position, nestled against Scheherazade's back. What kept him from remarking upon it was the horror that had been inflicted upon the citizens of Fuyuki, the burning of the city and the loss of their lives.

"-rector, Director, do you copy?" Roman's voice crackled through the air, causing Olga to perk up.

Her face cracked into a weary smile as she responded, "Doctor Roman, it's good to hear your voice. How are things back in Chaldea?"

The doctor's voice was just as tired as the humans in the group felt, but he made the report any way. "Currently, we've got the majority of the communications equipment back online, and I've got most of the remaining staff working on stabilizing the existences of Master Candidates. Also, the current stability of the communications equipment is because-"

"Of the universal genius da Vinci!" A woman's cheery voice interrupted, the Heroic Spirit in question likely having waited for the opportunity to chime in bombastically.

As she went into a string of babble about how things had gone due to her work, the Casters' brows quirked in confusion as they likely knew the figure as a man, while Olga turned her gaze to Blackmore. The blond snorted at her scrutiny, but spoke up for the sake of Cu and Scheherazade.

"Though Leonardo da Vinci was male in life, as a Heroic Spirit, they've taken on the form of what they consider most beautiful. So, they're female in body, and Mona Lisa in terms of gender, if that makes sense," As he explained that, the two Casters took on more thoughtful looks, contemplating either the way the genius had accomplished it or the purpose of it.

Da Vinci interjected perkily, clearly enthused at the recognition, "My! We've got an expert on me in the Singularity, how flattering! Then again, as a universal genius, it only makes sense that there'd be people out there who've studied me so closely!"

"Miss da Vinci also has a more than healthy ego," the Canadian observed with a chuckle, his mouth curved into a small smile. "But it's not unwarranted, she's the sort of great genius who can't be underestimated. Indeed, her help restoring the comms was likely due to the fact that she's the sort to have back-ups for important hardware."

"Oh please, praise me more! I don't get anywhere near enough appreciation for all my hardwork!" As the most famous Renaissance (wo)man went about cheering, the rest of the group looked at Trent in askance.

With a shrug, the blond remarked, "There's not really much I can do there, though maybe there's some more important hardware for you to salvage or take back-ups off mothballs for. I'm sure that there's probably something you can dig up that either needs replacing or repairing if you look close enough."

"Ho ho, a challenge? To think, there'd be someone with the guts to challenge this genius to something! Take back over, Romani, I'm going to show the newbie just what I can do!" The artist hollered as she presumably scampered off to find something to take care of, leaving an almost stunned silence behind her.

The doctor was the first person to fill the silence da Vinci had left behind. "You know, I'm kind of amazed you were able to handle da Vinci so well, most people get pulled into her rhythm."

Trent shrugged even as the Casters looked to Mash and Olga, who commiserated Roman's statement with nods of their own. The doctor spoke up again, "Now, just where are you all heading? We know that the cause of the Singularity is situated on Mount Enzo, while you're on a parallel course, so how does this fit in?"

"Blackmore had a terrible idea, and unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be a better way to reinforce our numbers for our inevitable clash," the director answered as she kept her eyes forward.

There was a distant, shrill beeping from the doctor's side of the communication, causing everyone on the carpet to tense. Sounding panicked, Roman yelped, "Heading right towards you is an immensely powerful Heroic Spirit! You need to get out of there!"

That was the first sign, but the second nearly knocked the wind from the lungs of Trent, Mash, and Olga. An immense rumbling like a mountainside collapsing, or the ground tearing itself asunder in an earthquake sounded through the air as their target roared. The roar was like a shockwave, blasting through them, but the pressure that followed after them was something entirely metaphysical despite the crashing of Berserker's approach.

A black and crimson shape erupted from a burnt-out building, flames clinging to him as he left a trail of cinders and rubble in his wake. His eyes shone red as they zeroed in on the party on the magic carpet, strangely focused despite his nature.

Despite being Blackened, despite being insane, despite being Herakles at the weakest he could be, Blackmore knew their chances of defeating him were slim. He tried to exhale and center himself, only to find no air in his lungs.

He couldn't bear to breath.

They needed Olga to act out her role.

If Herakles attacked, he was sure they would die.

Trent's fingers almost clawed as he held onto Scheherazade's torso, shoulders tensed to the point of aching.

Berserker's charge had no telegraphing motion, instead he exploded into motion, his arm twisting up and around as he readied his roughly hewn rock weapon. His stride ate the distance between them in no time, craters following in the wake of his drive.


	5. Chapter 5

**Fumble Order Redux 5**

Before the club could connect with anyone on the carpet, Mash had intercepted it, her arms and shield visibly shaking as she tried to protect the others. Trent's eyes widened at the sight of her, even as her legs started shaking, because despite her struggles, there was an azure glow shining off her weapon.

Still, she couldn't stand for long in the face of Herakles, and was knocked from the flying carpet, hitting the ground with meaty smack. Before he could continue forward or swing his weapon again, a tangle of roots exploded from the ground and lashed out at him, each one knocking him away from the group.

Undeterred, the Berserker let out another howl, the sheer concussive force slamming into Blackmore and reminding him of the necessity to breathe. While Cu Chulainn took to the fore of the carpet, runes firing rapidly off his staff to deter their target, Trent looked back at the Director.

Her eyes were wide and locked onto Herakles, her hands balled into fists as she bunched her skirt up in instinctive terror. The blood draining from her face had given her an albino pallor similar to the Einzberns, but she had clearly been shaken by Berserker's attack.

Even as Mash hopped back onto the carpet, Blackmore was reaching back and shaking the stunned albino. He was trying his best to keep his voice level as he hissed, "Olga, this is our only chance, quickly!"

"Ah-" She stopped herself as she retook command of her faculties, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it. She took a deep breath and cried out in a poor imitation of a young girl, "B-Berserker! Stand down!"

For a moment, Herakles stopped in his assault, his head turning towards the Director for a moment, all sound dying away. His scrutiny continued for a long few minutes as his gaze bored into Olga, the albino doing her best to keep from quaking despite the weight of the demigod's glare.

The silence was shattered by Berserker's enraged howl and he redoubled his efforts, desperately trying to reach the carpet to kill the intruders in his territory.

While again shaken by Berserker's roar and animosity, Trent managed to keep a better hold on his wits as he tried to give orders. "Scheherazade, take us up Mount Enzo, as fast as you can! Mash, focus on deflecting Herk's attacks away from the carpet rather than blocking them outright. Cu, keep up what you've been doing to keep him away, but be ready to launch him into the path of oncoming projectiles if Archer tries to attack us!" As he stopped to breathe, the carpet had already started pulling away from Berserker and the storyteller had escaped his grip to shift around on the carpet while Mash gave a shout of assent. Looking to the clearly stunned Olga, he remarked, "It's too bad it didn't work, but it was a longshot anyway. I'll have to ask you to focus on taking out any non-Berserker enemies that try and attack us."

The albino did an admirable job of pulling herself together and gave a swift nod, aiming her finger off to the side, chanting under her breath as she prepared to shoot down any attackers.

The magic carpet did the closest approximation to a peel out that Trent was sure it could perform, missing only the accompanying sounds of spinning tires and squealing rubber. It whipped away from the Grecian Berserker, the vehicle lent speed by Scheherazade's desire to escape his wrath while the others tried to keep him from killing them.

Blackmore found that he and the rest of the group paid little heed to the various lesser threats of the city with the threat of Herakles chomping at their heels. Still, the closer they got to Mount Enzo, the more Broken Phantasms were shot their way, all of them intercepted by a flung Berserker or dodged by a quick weave through the air.

None of the damage even seemed to slow Herakles though, as he kept up his dogged pace, ripping through architecture and lesser undead in his single minded chase.

When they hit the stairs heading up to the Ryuudoji Temple, the arrows came faster and faster, causing Mash to stand at the fore of the carpet, shield set in front of her as she blocked them. Though her arms buckled under each strike, she stood strong with her teeth grit in determination as she stood before the others. Despite the repeated blows and the strain she was clearly under, she stood firm.

"Master, I still don't know if I can do as you said, and decide on just a few things I want to protect…" despite her hesitant wording, Mash readjusted her grip and her stance steadied, the edges of her shield glowing a light azure. As a Broken Phantasm slammed into her shield and exploded, she was unmoved as the carpet advanced. "I want to protect everyone, I want to make sure that everyone back in headquarters is safe. It might not be for the best… but I definitely want to protect everyone!"

As she said that, she straightened her back and set her eyes forward, determination burning behind her words as acted as vanguard. Cerulean light pulsed off Mash's shield, forming into a solid wall, symbols scrawled across the phantasmal bricks as it solidified. The Noble Phantasm, currently unnamed and not completely manifested, was a blue hued wall of thick bricks that solidified before Mash's shield.

Watching this, Trent shook his head ruefully, a small smile on his face as he kept his eyes on the young lady's back. "If you're resolved to follow that path, Mash, then I won't stop you. But make sure your heart never wavers in that ideal, because if it does, then that wall doesn't have a stable foundation."

He didn't receive any verbal reply from her as she stood steadfast, her unnamed Noble Phantasm weathering the assault. Staring at her back, he couldn't help the but admire her, someone who was so different from him, willing to put the everso limited life that she had at risk for the sake of so many people who would never know…

Trent let out a noise that was a cross between a sigh and a despairing chuckle, desperately packing down his desire to breakdown for the umpteenth time as he reached out and gently placed his hand on Mash's back. "There's just one other thing you need to remember then, Mash. You're not alone in this fight. You've got the Director, Doctor Roman, Da Vinci, Scheherazade, all of us backing you up. So if you ever need a hand, all you need to do is ask."

"Yes, Master!" He could feel Mash's back straighten as she registered the comment, her Noble Phantasm pulsing even further. It was just after that moment that they broke into the main clearing of the Ryuudoji Temple, soaring past the Blackened Archer as he rained weapons down on Berserker.

Looking at the scene, Trent gave a resolute nod as he looked to Cu Chulainn, the Celt giving him a much more skeptical look as Mash's Noble Phantasm faded. "Gonna need you to hop off hear and take out Archer, Berserker's far more likely to keep on us as it is."

"You ask a lot, kid, making me put off a throwdown with Herakles. Someone needs to keep Archer from crashing your upcoming rendezvous with Saber," the Caster remarked as he stood and headed for the edge of the carpet, his eyes darting up from the Master to the rapidly approaching treeline on the far end of the clearing. He then sighed as he dropped off the vehicle, runes flaring into existence as he prepared to engage the Archer.

Trent shook his head as the carpet kept on going forward, and called over his shoulder, "I'll try and make it up to you at some point, Caster! I get the feeling that we'll meet again and have similar situations ahead of us!" The blond watched as the Celt turned his head, a small grin on his face as he gave a short wave to them.

Satisfied that Cu Chulainn was going to watch their backs, the Canuck turned his gaze forward as Scheherazade had the carpet up its speed as it darted through the trees. Soon afterwards though, the sound of trees being destroyed and uprooted began as Heracles started chasing after them.

The chase kept up as they moved from the forest and into the caves leading down into Mount Enzo, the Blackened Berserker's chase sounding just as destructive. Despite the darkness of the caverns, Trent could see how pale Olga had grown, causing him to wryly declare, "Well, this certainly is a one way trip."

"How can you joke at a time like this?" she asked through grit teeth, her face set in a mask of grim determination.

The blond snorted as he kept his eyes focused on what was immediately ahead of them, "Answer's simple, sweetheart. I can only keep up the professional act for so long and I'm nearing the end of my rope. I'm at the point where I either laugh or I cry." Despite saying that, there were still ideas percolating in his head, especially regarding what might happen after the battle with Saber.

"Oh, and your professionalism is _so_ important right now, Blackmore," the Director snarled as she pulled off the hat she'd donned and threw it.

Checking that the rune-inscribed stones were still in his pocket, Trent chuckled, "Oh, Olga, you sweet summer child. If I hadn't been holding back, I'd have verbally ripped apart so many people by now."

"I can't believe you think that matters!" she groused as she turned her gaze back toward the fore of the carpet.

Trent shook his head and tried his best to keep from bursting out laughing. "I'll have you know that I'm an expert at destroying people verbally, as well as pissing them off. It's for the best that I've kept a lid on it."

The magus shook her head as they rapidly approached a backlit cave mouth, the light coming from beyond sending a slithering feeling of worry into Trent's gut. As they cleared the arch, Scheherazade pulled the carpet into a swift ascent, causing Mash to stumble and the other two to let out surprised yelps. However, this saved them from the wave of shadowy energy that slammed into their previous position, collapsing the entrance.

The cavern they had entered was long, wide, and tall, bare except for its single occupant and the great pillar of dark light at the center of the cavern. The figure had a regal air about her despite the harsh black armour she wore and the eerie black and red sword she held at her side. She watched them imperiously, her pale golden eyes boring into them as she maintained her unfazed expression.

Artoria Pendragon turned to face them fully, the light from the corrupted Grail silhouetting her ominously as she did so. "You are the interlopers then."

"Just so," Trent called back from their vantage point, earning a glare from Olga even as Mash and Scheherazade readied themselves for whatever might happen. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, O' King of Knights." As he greeted her, he sketched a bow from his kneeling position, though it was an awkward thing.

The tyrant ignored his words as she shifted her grip on her weapon, dark energy licking up and down Excalibur Morgan's blade. Feeling the bottom of his stomach drop out, the Canadian cleared his throat as he continued, "Really, I must thank you for keeping this Singularity going as you did."

"I have no need for it," Artoria answered coolly, raising her weapon up to unleash the gathered energy.

The Canuck leaned forward, keeping his eyes on both Saber as well as the cavern at large, and continued, "Oh no, really! Without this Singularity, I'd have not met you, Cu Chulainn, or Herakles! Two of the heroes who I've admired from childhood and one who I'd come to be interested in my teen years. Had you not taken control of this Singularity as you did, I'd never have gotten the chance to encounter you and them!"

"Again, your blathering does not interest me. You should simply accept your death as inevitable," the Alter replied as she settled into her stance, eyes locked on the quartet.

Trent lifted a finger up, an awkward and giddy smile on his face as he nervously chuckled, "Just, just listen. There's one thing, one thing you really gotta know." When Saber shifted fully and readied herself to launch the attack instead of respond, the blond continued, "The talk ruse was a distraction."

As the rest of his group looked to him in shock and confusion, Artoria's face twisted in annoyance and disgust, the Alter almost ready to unleash her attack.

None of them were ready for when the rubble that had been shifting to burst outward, Berserker roaring as he bore down on Saber Alter.

Artoria quickly swivelled on her heel as she swiftly brought around Excalibur Morgan, aiming to blow him away before he could reach her. Herakles left a small impact crater in the cavern floor as he leapt out of the way, his footwork light for his size as he kicked off the upper wall of the cave, launching himself past Artoria as he aimed to cut her down.

The two launched into a quick exchange of blows, the quartet on the carpet quickly started strafing around the growing fight. Watching the blurred figures try and kill each other, the sole Master among the quartet ordered, "Mash, stand ready to defend us if need be. Olga, feel free to take potshots if you think it's necessary. Finally… Scheherazade, ready the full release of your Noble Phantasm."

"Of course, my Master," the Caster murmured, her eyes closing slightly as she began channeling her own energy.

Olga clamped her hand down on Trent's shoulder, and hissed, "Blackmore, what the hell is this? How are we going to handle both Saber and Berserker?"

"We're not going to, Director, they're going to take out each other," Blackmore answered as he kept his eyes locked on the ongoing battle. Despite Saber having the upside of rationality, Berserker closed the gap with his ferocity and rage.

The albino shook his shoulder, fingers digging into its flesh as she snarled, "They're going to kill each other?! Saber already defeated Berserker once! Even if we interfere, things are far more likely to go in her favour again!"

"Well, in most cases, you'd be right," Trent agreed as he reached up to pry at her fingers, wincing slightly at the pressure she was putting on his shoulder. "But there's one factor that you've discounted, and well, I suppose there's no chance that you would've known about it."

Before Olga could reply, Scheherazade interjected, "Master, I'm ready."

The blond gave her a sharp nod, causing the Caster to let out a steadying breath as she declared, "This is the story of my endless wish… created using my words night after night for the sum of one thousand and one nights…"

As Saber and Berserker clashed again, the petite swordswoman deflecting Berserker's weapon down Excalibur before unleashing a wave of energy at him, which he hopped over. The two kept up their battle, paying no mind to the group even as Scheherazade withdrew a scroll from her cleavage.

" _Alf Layla wa-Layla._ "

Upon the Caster's intonation, she flung open the scroll and unleashed a horde of colourful figures, the lot of them charging at dueling pair. Though she ignored them for the most part, Saber quickly dispatched the squad that tried to harry her with another blast of shadow, even as Berserker simply ignored the group attacking him. Taking advantage of Artoria's distraction, Herakles brought his stone bludgeon down on her shoulder, cleaving into her with a disgusting sound.

Ignoring the fact that her left hand had fallen limply away from the hilt of her weapon, the Alter didn't even notice as a pair of thieves stabbed their swords into her legs. With a ferocious grimace, she brought her weapon to bear and roared, " _EXCALIBUR MORGAN!_ "

The explosion of black and red energy blasted the rest of Scheherazade's summons out of existence, as they'd been assaulting Herakles in hopes of finishing him off. The Berserker himself was sheared in twain, leaving his upper half with only a single arm attached.

With her main opponent dispatched, Artoria turned to face them, her expression incredibly sour as her stance faltered due to the injuries she'd taken. As she raised Excalibur again to attack them, a blur of black and gray launched itself at her.

Despite losing most of his body mass, Berserker had managed to fling himself at Saber, roaring incoherently as he did so. For the last few moments that Herakles existed, he completely obscured Artoria, leaving the quartet on the carpet holding their breath.

As the most famous Greek hero faded away into golden flakes, Trent's mouth twisted into an expression caught between triumph and sadness. "Because while she's already gone, for the sake of Illyasviel von Einzbern, Herakles will surpass his legend."

Saber's corpse fell to its knees, as Berserker had managed to wrap his jaws around her head and bitten it clean in half.

Despite the feeling of elation that swept through the group, they were all knocked off the carpet by a wave of force as a man's voice remarked, "Well, this is quite the surprise."

Olga stared at the figure who had appeared next to Saber's corpse, his green suit making him stick out like a sore thumb.

"…Lev?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Fumble Order Redux 6**

The hatted figure stared down at the currently disappearing corpse, its face impassive as it nudged the dead body with a foot. After watching Saber flake away for a few moments, it turned to look at the quartet, imperiously locking on to Olga as its mouth twisted into a cruel grin.

"Olga… I'm surprised to see you here."

As the group clambered to their feet, the Director's face split into a relieved smile as she cried, "Lev, you're alive!" She moved to stumble towards him, but was stopped by a firm grip landing on her shoulder and holding her in place. Standing next to her, Trent was glaring at the green clad figure as he kept a tight hold on the albino's shoulder.

"Honestly, it's very frustrating, this entire situation," Lev declared as he blithely looked over at the pillar of energy representing the Grail. He turned his gaze back to the director as she tried to shake the hand off her shoulder. "I didn't expect that you'd get this far, something beyond my plans and my tolerances." His mouth pulled into a grimace as he eyed Trent, annoyance finally showing clearly as he ground his pointed teeth.

"But what are you, unforeseen variable? Some final contingency left behind by Marisbury?"

As he said that, Roman cut in through the static, "Wait! Professor Lev is there? How didn't we find him earlier?"

"Ah, Romani, you survived as well…" the professor's mouth attempted to pull itself into a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Despite my instructions ordering you to the command room immediately, you didn't listen. Honestly…scum that can't even follow orders makes me want to vomit. Why must humans try to dodge their preordained fates?"

"Master, please fall back! That person is dangerous!" Mash called to Trent even as she readied her shield to bring it between them.

Ignoring them, Lev turned his eyes to the director, smiling once more. "My, you've had a hard time of it as well, haven't you?" The hatted figure stepped forward as he allowed his sharklike eyes to open, Olga faltering back a step now that she'd been forced to sit and listen. "Honestly, all these complications have irked me, and without a doubt, the largest complication has yet to be resolved."

He swept a hand out in the albino's direction, his grin matching his gaze. "You, Olga. I set a bomb right beneath your feet, and you stand before me. Still clinging to life."

"…what?" Olga's reply was quiet, but it echoed through the cavern, her eyes widening as her already pale complexion whitened. "L-Lev…that's, w-what's that supposed to mean?"

"Ah, no, that's not completely right," the figure remarked as he breezed past her question. "You're already dead, your body was destroyed in the blast. Trismegistus thoughtfully transferred you into this Singularity after you became little more than spiritual residue. The you who had no aptitude for Rayshift while alive has gained that through the death of your body."

His hat shadowed his features, leaving only his grin as he continued, "That's the reason why you can't return to Chaldea as you are. The moment you do so, your consciousness will vanish, swept away as your spirit is torn from the mortal coil."

"Wh-bu-but, I-I'll die? I can't go back?" The director muttered, her expression lost as she tried to understand just what had been revealed to her.

The tophat bobbed as Lev replied, "Indeed, but that's far too sad a story for you. Let me show you the fate of the Chaldea that you devoted your life to before you go." With a simple gesture, a hole opened in the air, showcasing the great orb of Chaldeas, shining a malevolent red.

"Cha-Chaldeas is bright red? It's a lie! It has to be an illusion, right?" she cried as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

Lev kept up his jovial demeanour up as he answered, "Oh no, it's very real. I've connected the dimensions to show you, having the Holy Grail allows me to do as much." With a small motion, he pulled Olga into the air and out of Trent's grip. "Now, behold your folly, descendant of Animusphere! Not a sliver of blue representing human survival remains! Nothing but this burning red of extinction!"

The tophatted figure was crowing as his grin split his face. "Isn't it wonderful, Marie? This is the result of this mission! Once again, your incompetence has brought forth tragedy!"

"N-no! That's wrong! Absurd! I'm not responsible! It's not my fault! I didn't fail! I'm not, I'm not dead!" the albino screamed as she shook her head, kicking against the force pulling her towards Chaldeas. "Who even are you? What have you done to my Chaldeas?"

"Honestly, it isn't "yours." What an annoying child you are," Lev replied as he shook his head, distaste overtaking his features. "I could kill you, in all honesty. Dash your spirit apart like a glass, but there's no grace to that. I shall grant your final wish, instead. Lay your hands upon your treasure, consider it benevolence on my part."

"No! No! Stop! A territory of dimensional anomaly?" the girl continued to cry as she tried to squirm out of the invisible grip dragging her into the menacing sphere.

Lev was entirely focused on the albino he was tormenting. "Yes, exactly. It's not really that different from a black hole, or perhaps a sun. But, it changes nothing." He broke into an openmouthed grin, his pointed teeth gleaming in the light. "A human touching it would be a hellish disintegration on the molecular level. Please, have a taste of infinite living death!"

"No! No, no, no, no, no! Someone help me! Help! I don't want to die here!" the director was crying freely, tears falling down her cheeks as she tried to get free. "Because I've…I've never been praised by anyone! Why does this always happen to me? Nobody's ever valued me, they all just hated me!"

Olga's voice cracked as she floated towards the hole, those on the ground unable to interfere. "Please, no! I haven't accomplished anything yet! I've never been accepted by anyone!"

"You aren't going to die, Director!" Trent roared as he pulled his hand from his pocket and cycled through a pitcher's stance, throwing one of the stones that Cu Chulainn had given him when they left the mall. "Da Vinci! Roman! Pull Olga into Chaldea!"

"Wha-but Blackmore, weren't you listening to what Lev said?" the doctor argued from his end, panicking even as the small stone careened through the air.

While Lev was enjoying their panic, Da Vinci cut in, "It's fine, Romani! Set the coordinates to the coffin that I finished installing!"

"Honestly, giving a girl false hope, how rude you all are," Lev remarked blithely as he watched the stone come down and land at his feet, ignoring it as it tapped his shoe. He was about to finish pulling Olga into Chaldeas when the runes lit up and the stone exploded.

As a cloud of shrapnel and dust overtook Lev, Olga started to fall towards the ground before blinking out of the Singularity in a flash of blue light. Staring at the settling dust while Scheherazade and Mash prepared to fight Lev, Trent couldn't help but let out a breath.

The professor stepped out of the cloud, not a single hair or fibre out of place, face set in a mask of disappointment. He shook his head as he remarked, "Honestly, she was already dead, and you decided to just torment her with hope in her last moments. How disgusting."

"Wanna bet on it?" the blond man asked as he tried to keep from panicking in the face of the human clad monster before him.

Lev allowed a single brow to quirk up, before letting out a chuckle. The idea of a gamble clearly tickling his sadistic nature. "Hmph, the terms?"

"If Olga lives, you leave the Grail to me. If she doesn't, then we fight," Trent answered, not finishing the second sentence as facing off against a Demon God Pillar in their current state probably wouldn't go too well.

The figure smiled as he nodded, "Agreed."

"Then the contract is sealed," Trent declared, causing Lev's eyes to narrow.

The hole into Chaldea shifted, giving them a skyward gaze of Da Vinci and Romani hunched over a console, staring at the readout. A crooked smile worked its way across the doctor's face as he murmured, "She's alive! It worked! The director's alive!"

"Of course it worked! It was prepared by the genius Da Vinci!" the Renaissance Man declared proudly, putting her hands on her hips as she thrust her chest out.

The hole suddenly shifted to a clearly newly installed coffin, which had its lid shaking as muffled cries for release came from within it.

With no sound at all, the hole in space and time snapped shut as Lev turned to stare at the Canadian. His blank black eyes bored into the blond, his mouth twisted into a grimace of annoyance. "It would seem that you've won our bet. The Grail is yours." With that said, he turned and walked behind the air, disappearing into the aether.

"Blackmore! We're not getting any readings from Lev anymore, claim the Grail while you can!" Roman's voice crackled through the air, some panic clearly evident in his voice.

The blond shared a look with Scheherazade and Mash, who responded with simultaneous nods as they fanned out and took up defensive positions. The trio closed on the pillar of dark light cautiously, eyes out for any sort of incoming threat. When they reached it, Trent reached out, the pillar metamorphosing into a crystal and then into a golden grail. The blond wrapped his hand around the stem, pulling it free and marvelling at its lack of heft.

The Canuck looked up and called out, "We've got the grail, bring us back to Chaldea!"

"The Holy Grail's retrieval has been confirmed! Rayshifting you back," the salmon-haired man replied, a cerulean vortex flashing before the trio's eyes as they were encompassed in a feeling of weightlessness.

Almost the next moment, they had dropped into Chaldea, their knees buckling at the sudden shift. Trent looked around, the cratered ground and blasted walls drawing almost as much of his attention as the seemingly spotless coffin, its lid open and wafting a light mist.

As Roman jogged into the room, Trent collapsed to his knees, letting out a shuddering breathe even as Scheherazade and Mash turned to him, surprise and concern etched on their faces respective faces.

The blond ignored them.

He was out of danger, he could finally decompress and let out all the stress that had piled up.

He flopped forward, letting his head rest gently on the ground as he thought about just what he was going to do once he could raid their cafeteria.

Stench invaded his nostrils and he decided he'd shower first, then raid the cafeteria.


End file.
